


pretty pink moscato sangria

by avxry



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Banter, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Canon, Probably too much breaking of the fourth wall, Wine, badly described brief seduction, badly described dancing, i definitely finished this at 7 am, literally so much fluff, nate has feelings but you know he doesn't talk about em, there's not plot it's just cute, tipsy, yes another fic in which nate and wade share an apartment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 13:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avxry/pseuds/avxry
Summary: So Wade gets a little dancey when he's been drinking wine. Sue him.





	pretty pink moscato sangria

**Author's Note:**

> started writing this at 5am after having a bit too much wine myself and finished it at 7am when the wine had mostly worn off and yet, here i sit, proud of this garbage that i have produced
> 
> pls enjoy

_ Deadpool himself would like to let you know that this is yet another fanfiction in which he and Cable found some ridiculous reason to share an apartment after the end of the second movie in lieu of just admitting that they’re lonely and need someone to be around. _

\---

So Wade gets a little dancey when he’s been drinking wine. Sue him. 

Lots of fanfictions seem to say that Wade can’t ever get drunk because of his healing factor, but honestly, the author has never understood that logic because they really don’t understand the fundamental biology of getting drunk in the first place, so, for all intents and purposes, Wade can get drunk just like any normal person, thankyouverymuch. And, in any case, he’s only tipsy. Adorably so, if he says so himself.

Cable (or Nate! Nathan Summers! Wade  _ has _ to remember to start saying Nate instead of Cable now that he knows his name) stares at him as he bounces around the tiny little apartment. He’s barely balancing a wine glass in his left hand as he twirls his right hand around, like a conductor keeping time to some music that only he can hear. Wade thinks maybe he sees a smile play on Nate’s lips, or maybe he’s just a little too focused on Nate’s lips. Hard to tell. 

“Why are you staring?” Wade asks with an accusatory tone. He does a little spin, barely able to keep the wine in its glass as he shimmies his shoulders. “Don’t people have wine in the future?”

“No,” Nate replies, voice flat (but! Wade has been living with Nate for all of three and a half weeks now, and he knows that even Nate’s flat voice can have a hint of humor in it). “We have a drink akin to it.”

“Either way, you should not be staring,” Wade points at him with a little jiggle. He takes a good, long sip of his wine and grins. “C’mon, dance with me.” 

He begins twirling around and making facial expressions that make absolutely no sense. His limbs feel just a tad airy, and he’s light on his feet. The author, however, will not fail to mention that he nearly trips over the rug (but he catches himself and looks cool doing it, thanks). 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Party pooper.”

“I’ve never danced.” 

“Not even for a minute? Not even to make our fans squeal a little bit and roll their eyes at how cute we are and at how unbelievable the whole situation is?”

“Not even then.” 

“You’re no fun.” Wade points a finger at Nate, who is simply sitting on the couch, pretending to pay attention to the television even though the volume is down far too low to hear and it’s just infomercials at this hour. Oh, yeah - it’s about four in the morning. Wade definitely thinks that this is the best time to drink wine and get dancey. 

Nate lets out a gruff sigh, as he often does. Wade can’t see his face, but he knows that the expression he’d see on it if he  _ could _ would be that one that looks as if there’s nothing going on but actually shows that Nate is finding Wade totally adorable, if a little annoying. It’s Wade’s favorite expression to give him. It’s a good thing that Wade is naturally totally adorable and a little annoying.

“Why did you even think it was a good idea to get drunk at four in the morning?” Nate asks, not even turning around to look at Wade. 

Wade loves that Nate humors him by asking stupid questions like that.

Nate, invisibly smiling, says, “It’s not a stupid question.”

“Oh. I said that out loud, huh? Well, as a matter of fact, it  _ is _ a stupid question, because four in the morning is the _best_  time to get drunk on wine.” Wade takes a good, long drink of his pretty pink moscato sangria, then points his finger again. “And for your information, I’m not  _ drunk _ , I’m  _ tipsy _ , and there’s a  _ big _ difference.”

“Hm? And what difference is that?”

Wade lets out a sound that he doesn’t really know how to describe - almost a guffaw but not so hearty. “ _ Yes _ , there’s a  _ difference _ . If I were  _ drunk _ , I’d be  _ slurring _ , but I’m  _ tipsy _ , so I’m  _italicizing_.” 

“You’re what?”

“ _Italicizing_. Making the words all slanty. Seriously, have some wine and get dancey and start italicizing with me.”

“I don’t want to.” 

“Alright fine.” 

Wade electric-slides his way to the fridge, opens it up, and presses the little tab on the spout of the boxed wine, filling his big wine glass nearly to the top. He takes a long swig, drinking down half of what he just got and spinning clumsily as he closes the fridge door back. 

In a little tiptoe, and ends up in front of the couch, looking down at Nate with a goofy smile on his face. 

“Here,” he says, holding his wine glass out. “I got you some.”

Nate raises one eyebrow. His body is still, his feet up on the coffee table. (Wade notices that he’s got on these dark gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and yeah, that may be like a “dad” thing to wear, but  _ unf _ , am I right?)

“That’s the same glass you’ve been using.” 

“Yeah, so?” Wade challenges. He takes the glass, holding it by the rim, and swirls it around in front of Nate’s face. “I’ve seen you naked, it probably doesn’t matter if we share a glass.”

“You’ve seen me naked?” Nate echoes, his eyes narrowing. 

Wade dramatically stutters as he plops himself down on the couch, one knee tucked under him and his body turned completely to face Nate. “Not for any substantial amount of time. And just in my imagination.”

Nate seems to only barely find it within himself to not choke.  _ Note to self: Nate gets flustered when I talk about imagining him naked.  _ That doesn’t seem like much of a revelation. He probably could have guessed that. 

Nate rolls his eyes and tries to hide a little twitch of his lips by popping his back and then cracking the knuckles on his normal hand. 

“Wow, that must suck, only being able to crack the knuckles on one hand,” Wade muses, still absently swirling his drink around before taking another sip. “On the other hand, though -” Wade breaks out laughing before he can even finish his thought because  _ on the other hand oh my god because - because he’s talking about the one hand but then hahahaha he mentions the other hand - but - haha - it’s also an expression - _

“Yes, I understand, you don’t have to explain the joke.” 

Wade giggles for a minute longer, wiping away a fake tear. “I’ve really gotta stop not-realizing that I’m saying things out loud.”

“You should work on that.”

Nate is back to staring at the television as if he’s watching it (Wade knows he’s not, because, if he were, this infomercial about a new food processor would have him  _ floored _ ). Wade is back to staring at Nate as if he’s thinking about anything other than how much he likes the stern way his face settles. 

It’s quiet for a minute, until Wade says, “No, really, try some,” and shoves the glass violently in Nate’s face.

Nate can’t help but let out a laugh - an accidental, endearing, precious, rumbling, full-bodied, sexy laugh - as he swats Wade’s hand away, saying, “Stop it! Stop - I swear - Wade, why -”

“Because wine is one of the simple pleasures in the twenty-first century!” Wade exclaims, hopping in his seat and taking another sip. “Because - because - well, because I want you to!”

“And I should just do things because you want me to?” Nate challenges, but Wade sees that he’s amused.  _ God _ , Wade loves to entertain Nate, especially when he gets that face and his eye twinkles - not his cool-as-fuck robot eye, because that one twinkles a lot, even though Nate doesn’t like it when Wade says that it  _ twinkles _ .

“Yes,” Wade nods as if it’s obvious, “that’s how this relationship works, ever since the beginning.”

“Ever since the beginning?”

“Yup.”

“How so?” This question doesn’t sound so much like a question as it does a statement of  _ you’re wrong and I’m about to prove it _ . Little does Nate know, Wade is right a lot of the time.

“Well,” Wade starts, “you specifically didn’t kill Russell because I wanted you to. You moved into this apartment because I wanted you to. You got a small, albeit functional, wardrobe because I wanted you to. I, personally, would have preferred a bit more lace, but to each their own. Oh! You let me poke around at your sexy robot parts because I wanted you to. And now, you’re going to try this wine. Because I want you to.”

Nate looks as if he’s trying really, really hard to be annoyed at all those  _ facts _ , but, even after just three weeks, Wade knows him a little too well. They stare each other down, Nate’s robot eye glowing for a brief second for some reason (the movie really didn’t explain it, and the author is easily confused). 

Nate clenches his jaw for a moment and narrows his eyes. Finally, he grumbles, “Give me the damn wine.”

Wade cheers, shoving the wine back in front of Nate’s face. When Nate takes the glass from his hand, his claps excitedly and bounces in his seat, a grin on his face. “You’re gonna love this.”

Nate purses his lips and lets out a disbelieving hum (fucking  _ unf _ ) as he raises the glass to his lips, keeping eye contact with Wade the whole time, and, for the record, that whole eye contact thing should be illegal because Wade is  _ legally _ required to keep it in his pants and that feels hard. 

Hehe. 

Hard.

_ Focus _ . 

Nate tilts the glass up and takes a sip, the pink-tinted liquid sloshing around gently. Nate raises an eyebrow the moment the wine hits his tongue. 

“Mm,” he nods, removing the glass from his mouth, “not bad.” 

Wade grins, “And  _ that’s _ even a cheap boxed wine.” 

Wade reaches out to take the glass back, but before he can, Nate pulls his hand out of reach and takes another sip - actually, not quite a sip, but a long, slow swallow, still making eye contact until  _ oh my god _ his eyes look Wade up and down leisurely. Nate drags the glass away from his lips and moves his tongue around in his mouth before licking his lips. 

A certain area of Wade’s pants are  _ just a bit tighter _ . Nate can almost certainly tell, even from the look on Wade’s face. 

Wade swallows. Blinks. Nate hands the glass back to him, eyebrow raises. Wade reaches out to take the glass back and nearly misses, not because of how much alcohol he’s drunk but just because his motor skills are a little affected by the fucking  _ sultry _ look Nate is giving him right now. 

“That’s just uncalled for,” Wade grumbles, taking the glass back and downing the rest of the wine inside it. 

Nate hums again with a shrug, turning away. “Agree to disagree.” 

Wade scoffs, leaning to his side to place the wine glass on the coffee table. “You  _ know _ I’m a slut for old, beaten-down alcoholics. Probably a daddy issue -” 

Nate tilts his head in a nod. “Probably.”

Wade leans back into the couch and points, “And one of these days, you better not be surprised when I genuinely make a move, because I’m getting all these mixed signals, and, Nate, the body wants what it wants -”

“Mixed signals?”

“ _ Yes _ , mixed signals,” Wade continues, rolling his eyes dramatically and flailing his hand about. “I don’t know what to do with myself -”

“Who said any signals are getting mixed?”

Nate delivers that line with a shrug, turning back to face the TV, as if what he just said was a throwaway or something, but Wade stills and stares at him. He feels his fingers twitch. He positions himself on the couch to lean closer to Nate.

His face is just a little too close to Nate’s as he says, “What does  _ that _ mean?”

Nate starts to smirk just a little. It’s almost evil, that expression. It  _ knows _ what it’s doing. Nate turns his head to look at Wade dead on. 

“It’s means,” he replies, “that there are no mixed signals.” 

Wade’s whole body heats up, like a flaming fire burning just beneath his skin. His eyes flit back and forth, searching between Nate’s normal eye and his robot one, trying to get a grasp on exactly what the  _ fuck _ is happening when Nate actually fucking licks his lips again. Nate raises an eyebrow as if it’s a purposeful  _ temptation _ and  _ damn _ Wade is feeling pretty fuckin’ tempted. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Wade says slowly, nodding to himself and backing away. “You’re trying to get me to embarrass myself and then ruin our perfectly-good companionship and move out so you get the apartment all to yourself and then you can -”

“Wade.”

“- save the world on your own time -”

“Wade -”

“- and not have to deal with me hanging around all the time -”

“Wade!”

“What?”

“Just fuckin’ do it already.”

“Huh?”

“Just - oh, never-fucking-mind.”

Nate suddenly gets up from the couch and struts off angrily toward his bedroom, leaving Wade sitting on the couch, hot-and-bothered and stunned. 

He looks at you. “What the fuck was that?” 

Obviously, you don’t answer, so he huffs and leaps up, following Nate into his room before Nate has a chance to close the door on him.

“What the hell, Nate?” Wade exclaims, throwing his hands out. “What did I do?”

“You did nothing.”

“Exactly!” Wade says, taking another step toward Nate, who has his back turned. Nate brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t do anything - why are you so pissed all of a sudden?”

Nate lets out a sigh. He turns around to face Wade, no trace of any emotion on his face. He takes a moment before saying, “You’re right. It’s just late. I’m sorry. I’m going to bed.”

But he makes no movements. 

And there they are, Nate and Wade, staring at each other, and Wade thinks he gets it. 

“Oh,” he says under his breath. “Sorry. I’m a dumbass.” 

Nate doesn’t answer, and Wade takes that as an agreement. 

“A total, complete dipshit,” Wade continues. He steps forward. 

Nate hums again, and his eyes flit between Wade’s eyes and Wade’s lips. Wade tries to hide his oncoming grin. 

“I think I just figured you out, I-Robot,” he says, taking another step, and then one more, and then stopping, his eyes twinkling. 

Nate has just enough time to make a face of confusion at that reference before Wade presses their lips together firmly, letting out a breath through his nose as soon as Nate responds.

Wade brings his hands up to Nate’s neck, thumbs tracing over Nate’s jaw tenderly. Nate pushes back with a little grunt that Wade can feel as it moves from Nate’s mouth to his own. Nate presses their bodies together and grabs at Wade’s hips. 

Their lips start moving against each other and they lose all track of anything other than the feel of each other in that moment. Their teeth accidentally click, sending jolts through their nerves. Wade can taste the wine on their lips.

Wade starts giggling just a little, and then Nate starts giggling just a little, and then they both start giggling a lot and they can’t kiss anymore but Wade pecks Nate on the cheek nonetheless, which makes Nate laugh outright and duck his head, which makes Wade laugh too and it’s all very sweet. 

Wade finishes out a bout of laughter and sighs, “Ah, this is gonna be a mess.”

“Why is that?”

“Because now I’m like  _ super _ attached to you.”

“And?”

“And now I’m contractually obligated to defend you with my life.”

Nate smiles a little. “Does that contract also include using your last burst of time travel energy to save an annoying, immortal idiot who somehow found a way to die?”

Wade’s grin could light up the night sky. “Only you could make me blush by calling me an annoying, immortal idiot.”

“Get used to it.”

“Oh, I plan to,” Wade smirks, stroking his thumb over Nate’s jaw again. “Anything else I should get used to?”

Nate pretends to consider. “No, that’s all.” 

“You sure?”

“Yes.” 

“So you’re telling me you’re not gonna make a habit of getting pinned down on that bed right there?”

Nate raises an eyebrow, his metal hand splaying open on the small of Wade back and sending chills through him. “On the contrary,” Nate mumbles, looking Wade up and down, “getting pinned is going to be your job.” 

“Oh, you’re so lucky I’m a vers.”

“I’m sure I am.” 

“You  _ are _ .”

“I’m  _ sure _ .” 

They grin at each other and then start laughing again, laughing at themselves and at the situation and at their whole timeline in general. 

“Well,” Wade chuckles, “the author clearly doesn’t know how to end this little lovefest, so what do you say we start pushing the boundaries of this teen rating?”

“Not on screen.”

“Fine, old man.”

“Shut up and come here.”

“With pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is my 2nd work for cablepool and i'm starting to get the hang of the characterization slightly more, i think! then again, most of my ramblings were genuinely just my own tipsy thoughts, so i can't really say for sure :)
> 
> lmk your thoughts! i'd appreciate it! i'm still really new to this pairing and i wanna contribute quality content!
> 
> thanks for reading! love u!


End file.
